


Whispers, Like Phantoms

by lotuskasumi



Category: MGSV - Fandom, Metal Gear, Metal Gear Solid, Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, M/M, Mood Swings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotuskasumi/pseuds/lotuskasumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venom Snake understands Kaz more than he knows, and offers whatever help he can, no matter what Kaz says or does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers, Like Phantoms

**Author's Note:**

> Anon specifically requested it be Venom Snake and Kaz, but AO3 has a weird tagging system with that so... Sorry for the double tags.

Kazuhira Miller did not easily accept help these days. He did not ask for it, he didn’t want it, and he certainly did not want to seem to _need_ it. Not because of weakness, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was because of strength, and a desperate desire to hold it.

Snake understood that well enough. Snake also understood that Kaz’s behavior wasn’t about pride. And although one could argue that Kaz was being pointlessly stubborn, it wasn’t that either. The hearts of man were hysterical little things, and so too with the mind. Doubly so when they both bore wounds with no easy cure.

Not many knew this lesson firsthand. So few survive the instruction, you see. But wounds call to wounds, just as like calls to like, and when it comes to Kaz’s newfound temper—his biting words, his cutting glares, his mood swings, the screams, and sometimes even the devout vows of violence against his won men—Snake understands. Snake always understands, even if he doesn’t say it.

Whenever Snake hears the soldiers on Mother Base mutter darkly among themselves, or whenever he sees them twisting their heads to cast sharp, sidelong glares at Kaz as he passes, Snake makes sure to pause an extra beat to face them all. Kaz won’t, but he _must_. Snake meets these glares, faces these looks, and offers a heavy silence loaded with meaning to every disparaging word, even if they’re barely spoken, because whispers are like phantoms. They can still leave scars.

It wasn’t a challenge. Not really. At least, not directly. Snake could do that if he chose, and there were some days where he truly wanted to, no matter what Kaz might say about it. But in the end Snake always chose silence; he opted to observe rather than interfere. Snake would not give what was unwanted. His friend deserved more respect than that. At least, he wouldn’t do it with an audience around. To Snake this _was_ a point of pride.

So on a night when the glares and grumbles and expressions were especially harsh, Snake came to a decision. To hell with pride. To hell with fear, with doubt, with rejection and pain. Sometimes the best way to cope with insurmountable miseries was to give a man a hand to hold.

So that’s what Snake did.

It wasn’t easy to catch up to Kaz, whose pace, however labored, was still brisk, as if fury motivated the man to a place beyond struggle. Once Snake did, he noticed the smallest shift in his friend’s gait. Kaz walked a little slower to accommodate Snake’s presence, and he seemed to relax just a bit as well. His shoulders sank down, his jaw unclenched, and the grip on his brace became less suffocating. No longer were the bones straining up through skin and glove, daring to pop free.

They kept pace with each other in silence. Together they turned, making a sharp right, and soon they were out of the soldiers’ line of sight for a brief respite, but the privacy wouldn’t last long.

Snake did a quick guess in his head. Fifteen seconds. That’s all the time they had. _Better make the most of it._

One. “Lots of talk on Base today,” Kaze said, breaking the silence.

Two, three. “It’s just empty air. They’ll move on eventually.”

Four, five, six. “I don’t care if they move on,” Kaz pressed, teeth snapping like a trap around every word. “I want them to understand.”

Seven, eight. “You can’t make a man understand, Kaz. He has to want that for himself, and get there on his own.”

Nine, ten. “Then I went them to try.”

Eleven. Snake laid a hand on Kaz’s shoulder and squeezed. Kaz leaned into the touch, both taking the support and offering his own.

Twelve. To the surprise of both men, Kaz smiled. He bowed his head and lowered his eyes as if to hide the look, but Snake saw it. He had his head turned to keep Miller in his gaze. It was like a string were tied between them, shifting and stretching and straining, but never breaking.

 _The red thread of fate,_ Kaz thought—thought, but didn’t, couldn't, say.

Thirteen. Snake moved his hand down his friend’s arm, skimming over the damp blotches where the rain bled in. The bionic hand was heavier than his normal touch, and Snake had to take care to make the movements gentle. No sense adding to his friend’s damage.

Fourteen. Snake gave his support the best way he knew how. Silently, steadily, with as much strength and sincerity as he could dare to spare. But they were running out of time.

Snake gripped the back of Kaz’s hand, bending his fingers over Kaz’s own. Kaz ran his thumb along the side of Snake’s hand, which Snake saw rather than felt. It wasn’t quite the same as holding hands, but at least they were holding on, and holding on to each other no less, and that’s what mattered. What else did they have?

Fifteen. Kaz stopped. “I’m glad you’re on my side, Boss,” he said, his voice low, his words wet, and his throat shifting as if something alive were trapped inside.

“I’m here when you need me.” Snake meant it. Of course he meant it. Why wouldn’t he?

But then, to Snake’s surprise, Kaz laughed. It was a strangled, awful sound, and it came to a sudden stop in his mouth. “After all this time? I should damn well hope so.”

For a moment, just a moment, Snake understood the bitterness in Kaz’s voice, the viciousness of it, the disappointment. The weight of it struck him the way lightning crashes into a tower, and the shock of it made him sway in place—but then Kaz broke free and walked on.

Snake stared at Kaz’s back as he left. He had lifted up his shoulders as if to ward off a blow, and his head was still bowed, but he was walking slowly, taking his time with every step. Snake knew why, and this time he didn’t keep Kaz waiting.

 

> _If you leave, if you leave_  
>  I will follow, I will follow  
>  What am I?  
>  What am I?

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics at the end taken from Switchblade Symphony's "Invisible," which is very VenomKaz, IMO.


End file.
